


Rain Upon the Blinding Dust of Earth

by Whatevergirl



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 5 Things, Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3541529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatevergirl/pseuds/Whatevergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Dorian cried around Iron Bull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pain and Pleasure, like Light and Darkness, Succeed Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> "Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before--more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle." - Charles Dickens, Great Expectations.

_"Pain and Pleasure, like Light and Darkness, Succeed Each Other."_ \- Laurence Sterne

\------

There were times, Dorian mused as he shivered by the campfire, that his life seemed to be an endless cycle of pain and pleasure; one pleasure finished and so pain began, then when the pain was overcome, he found pleasure again.

It was clear he had hit the pain period of this cycle though. The Tevinter felt his teeth chatter. He bloody hated the southern climes. He scowled as he watched a snowflake drift down in a lazy circle; it was too cold. Beside him, Bull was cleaning his axe, the strong movements causing his muscles to move delightfully beneath the skin.

“Do you need me to look at your arm?” Lavellan asked, her large eyes peering deep into his own.

“I need to wash it first.” He grumbled, not looking forward to having to undress enough for that.

“Need some help with that?” Bull asked, his attention caught by the idea of undressing Dorian, no doubt.

“No, I do not.” Dorian glared, but stood up and headed over to a smaller fire, which had a pan of snow melting in it.

He hissed as he struggled with the buckles, silently cursing the style. He looked fantastic in his clothing, but it wasn’t loose enough to remove without bothering his wounded arm.

“Why? Why is it leaving? Why can’t I use healing magic anymore? Was I simply too inept at it?”

“Shut up Cole.” Grumbled Dorian, though there was no bite to his words.

“I came to help.” The young man replied, stepping forward to help Dorian out of his shirt. 

“Thank you.” The mage sighed, not thrilled that Cole had ignored his claim that he didn’t need help, but knowing the boy could see deeper than words. 

“Is healing magic really disappearing?” he asked, eyes focussed on the jagged tear in Dorian’s arm.

“You’d have to ask Vivienne to be sure, but I suspect so.” He wondered if magic really was fading, if one day even Tevinter would have to rely on the soporati to run smoothly… not that it didn’t to a certain extent now, of course, but perhaps one day the soporati would be valued despite their lack of magical talent. 

“They aren’t so bad. Long, brown hair, an easy grin but sad eyes… the eyes in them are always the same.” 

“Cole…”

“I’m sorry.”

Then Cole pressed the alcohol doused cloth against his wound. Dorian hissed and curled in slightly, though his arm remained outstretched in Cole’s surprisingly strong grasp.

“Oh, there is something in here.” Cole voice was curious, and Dorian glanced at his arm. 

The flesh had turned a strange, almost blue colour and the mage wondered if there had been some poison on the rock he had injured himself on.

“That’ll be from the moss.” Bull’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I’ve got it now kid.”

Cole nodded and drifted off, but Dorian kept his focus on his arm. It was disgusting and churned his stomach, but the Iron Bull unnerved him in an entirely different way.

“Cold?” Bull asked as he sat beside the mage, his large body radiating heat.

“Do I even need to answer that?” he snapped, glaring unhappily over at the Qunari. 

Bull smiled fondly at him, but didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled an injury kit out of his ridiculous trousers and spread the paste onto the wound. Dorian tried to keep his glare up, but as the large man began to carefully wind the bandage around his skin, the mange sighed and slumped forwards to rest against him.

The Qunari ruffled his hair as he moved away, but Dorian simply frowned though his yawn and shuffled slowly over to his tent. 

It was several hours later that the Iron Bull woke up to hear crying coming from outside his tent. He extracted himself from the flimsy structure, angling his horns so he didn’t take the material with him and looked out. By the campfire, Dorian was on his knees, curled forwards and sobbing softly. Bull didn’t hesitate, didn’t worry that Dorian might prefer to be left alone and didn’t think of waking anyone else. He headed over, dropped to the ground and pulled the mage into his lap.

Dorian didn’t object. He simply pressed his face into Bull’s neck, but his arms stayed in front of him.

“You shouldn’t do that.” Bull pointed out, forcing Dorian’s hand away from his injured arm.

“Hurts!” he gasped, his kohl-streaked face visible for a moment, before it was once more hidden in Bull’s neck. 

“Still shouldn’t do that. Just leave the paste to do its job and get rid of that poison.”

In response, Dorian slid his hand up to grip at Bull’s harness. Bull shifted into as comfortable a position as he could manage while Dorian clung to him and took up the rest of the man’s watch. He was in no state to keep an eye out after all.

“It’ll ease up, Dorian. Just wait it out.”

“Never ending cycle of pain and pleasure, right?” the mage asked, his limbs trembling.

“Sure, if you like. I’ll help in the pleasure part later on.”

Dorian snorted, before gasping again, a whimper escaping past his lips.


	2. The Individual who Persecutes a Man... Because He is Not of the Same Opinion, is a Monster

_"It is clear that the individual who persecutes a man, his bother, because he is not of the same opinion, is a monster"_ \- Voltaire

\------

It was several weeks after that that Dorian found himself in tears again. This time, Bull was nowhere to be found. The large man was Qunari no more and he hadn’t taken the transition to Tal-Vashoth well… Not that Dorian had helped really. He had tried, but everything he said seemed to make things worse, and so the mage had left his lover alone.

Then Lavellan had come to him, a letter clutched in her small hand and a look of concern etched into her tattooed features. His father was sending someone to speak with him. He had agreed, and so they, along with Varric and Cassandra had set off to Redcliffe. 

It was only later that Dorian realised how lucky he was that Cassandra hadn’t removed his head during their journey there. He had been jittery, snapping at anyone who so much as looked at him questioningly. After all, what if it was some big, muscled man who had been instructed to carry him back home? Or worse, what if his father had paid off some Templars to cleanse his magic and force him back to Tevinter? He had to forcibly think about something else when his mind drifted to Alexius and his desperation to save his son, resulting in him working with an ancient madman to try and change things; he refused to consider his father would ever consider such a thing. 

Though, perhaps that thought was a result of Dorian clinging to the hope that his father, the man who had taught him to reject blood magic, was willing to turn to such things when he felt his son had failed. 

Failure…

It nearly made him turn back more times than he cared to say. In fact, twice he did physically start walking away from Redcliffe. The first time was not long after they reached the crossroads when Dorian spotted a young woman bickering with her father about marriage. He remembered the future waiting in Tevinter for him and couldn’t go any further. It was only when he considered Bull, and the fact that he couldn’t go curl up in his arms to find comfort that Dorian decided he was going through with it. He wasn’t going to go back and demand that Bull got over himself if he couldn’t even go and talk to some representative for his family.

The next time he froze was when they had crossed the village walls and were about to trek down towards the pub that Dorian stopped.

“I can’t do it.” He whispered, before turning away.

He got as far as the walls before Lavellan caught up to him, her light feet carrying her quickly across the dirt track. 

“Dorian?” she approached him as he leant against the wall.

“I can’t do it. What if this man insists I go back?”

“Hey! We’re not gonna let you just leave!” she grinned at him, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re my friend. Unless you want to go, then I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you here.”

“Probably be more effective if you use your daggers.” Dorian muttered in reply, but the reassurance helped.

“Come one. You know Cassandra doesn’t like wasting time like this.” She smiled at him, an expression he couldn’t help but return.

“Why bring her along then?” he sniffed.

“You never know when we will need a wall breaking down.” Lavellan laughed.

“You’ll get in trouble for that one of these days.” She would have gathered a hefty pile of fines if this was Tevinter and she still insisted on breaking down walls within old ruins.

However, he managed to head into the tavern, hands clenched into fists by his side and his head held high as he tried to banish his nerves. The place was empty though, chairs and tables devoid of people as he and Lavellan entered.

“Uh-oh. Nobody’s here. This doesn’t bode well.” His eyes darted around, trying to spot any traps that may have been laid out for them.

“Dorian.” A voice he had never expected to hear in the country of the dog lords cut through the air. 

“Father.” His eyes focussed on the man, thinner than he had been, more lines across his face too… was it the result of Dorian’s departure, or an after effect of the blood magic? “The whole story about the family retainer was what? Just a smoke-screen?”

“Then you were told.” Magister Halward Pavus stepped forward, but he didn’t sound surprised. Dorian wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I apologise for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved.”

“Of course not.” Huffed Dorian as his father apologised to the wrong person. “Magister Pavus couldn’t just come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor. What would people think?”

His father stepped forward again, taking a breath to speak, but Dorian didn’t stop.

“What is this, father? Anguish? Kidnapping? A warm family reunion?” His lip wobbled as he tried to hold back the pain.

“This is how it has always been.” Magister Pavus informed Lavellan with a shake of his head. Dorian resisted the urge to stamp his foot like a child and demand his father look at him.

“You went through all of this to get Dorian here.” She replied, her voice cold and disapproving. “Talk to him.”

“Yes, father. Talk to me! Let me here how mystified you are by my anger!” he ended up shouting, a resort of the lower classes how had little control over their emotions, apparently… but it was better than crying. 

“Dorian.” The man’s voice was still even, still controlled. “There is no need to-”

“I prefer the company of men.” Dorian hissed, aware that Lavellan struggled sometimes with human idiosyncrasies. “My father disapproves.”

“That’s… a big concern in Tevinter then?” She asked, confusion seeping into her expression.

“Only if you’re trying to live up to an impossible standard. Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distil the perfect mage; perfect body; perfect mind: The perfect leader.” He glared at his father, who couldn’t even let the magister mask fall enough to show whether or not he actually cared for his son. “It means every perceived flaw, every aberration, is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden.”

As his father hung his head, expression still perfectly bland even if his posture was no longer perfect, Lavellan shifted. She looked utterly perplexed and more than a little uncomfortable. 

“The… company of men? I’ll need you to explain that.” She bit her lip, her attention entirely on her friend and not even flicking over to his father.

“Did I stutter? Men, and the company thereof, as in sex. Surely you’ve heard of it.” He snapped, his emotions a turbulent mess and he knew he’d have to apologise to her later on. After all, while he was happily spending hours at a time in Bull’s bed, she was awkwardly stuttering her way to hand-holding with Cullen. It was as adorable as it was painful and sweet.

“I just… didn’t expect that.” She said, a blush spreading across her cheeks. 

“Well, it’s not as if I introduce myself that way. ‘Hello, my name is Dorian. I like men’.” He sighed forced himself to stop snarling when he noticed her face crumple. “Maybe I should start. Some days, it seems that’s all anyone cares about.”

“This display is uncalled for.” Interrupted Magister Pavus, disapproval finally colouring his tone.

“No, it is called for. You called for it by luring me here.” He turned on his father again, taking a step forwards.

“This is not what I wanted.” But it wasn’t regret in his voice, still just disapproval.

“I’m never what you wanted, father.” The words came from deep within, a truth he had avoided speaking out loud, even after he had left. “Or had you forgotten?”

“Then walk away, Dorian.” Lavellan said not allowing Magister Pavus a chance to speak as she stepped close, reaching a hand up to his shoulder. “You already did that once, didn’t you?”

He stepped back and looked into his friend’s eyes, the concern in them was almost overwhelming and he had to turn his head away. 

“Yet here I am again… No thanks to you.” He wasn’t sure who he was talking to. Lavellan, for insisting he come? His father for lying to him? Himself, even, for hoping something might be different if he spoke to this ‘family retainer’, for hoping that perhaps things could be resolved…

“Dorian, please. If you’ll only listen to me.” His father’s words were edging towards begging, but Dorian didn’t care.

“Why? So you can spout more convenient lies?” Tears blurred his vision, making him snarl again. “ _He_ taught me to hate blood magic, ‘the resort of the weak mind’… Those are his words. But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to…. _change_ me!”

A tear slipped down his cheek, but he paid it no mind. 

“I only wanted what was best for you.” 

“You wanted the best for you!” he snapped, angry that the man seemed able to speak naught be lies. “For your fucking legacy! Anything for that.” Another tear fell and Lavellan stepped forward.

“I think it’s time we left.” Her voice was cold, but her eyes were furious as they rested on Magister Pavus. 

“I agree.” He spun and left, tears blinding him as he walked straight into a solid body.

“Iron Bull?” Lavellan’s voice was soft again, warm. “What are you doing here?”

“Just stretching my legs. I hear the ale around here is good.” Bull blatantly lied as he wrapped his arms around Dorian’s trembling form.

“You travelled for a week through the Hinterlands just in case Dorian needed you?” Varric confirmed slowly, a smirk spreading across his face. “I am using that.”

“The tavern has a nasty smell about it. I wouldn’t bother.” Lavellan informed him, stepping forward to rest a hand on Dorian’s head, the only place above the waist available. 

“I want a drink.” Dorian spoke up softly. He wanted more than one, in fact.

“Wait until we get back home.” She said softly, before stepping back and heading back up towards the Hinterlands.

“Tell me about it later.” Bull instructed, and Dorian found he would be willing to do so. A surprise, perhaps, to find he wasn’t worried that Bull would spread the story around Skyhold. A surprise to find he trusted him.


	3. What Would Humans Be Without Love?

_" 'And what would humans be without love?'_  
_RARE, said Death"_ \- Terry Pratchett 

\------

Typical. Dorian thought as he hurried out the library and off to his room. It was typical that a week after one pain, the next one arrived… and it naturally had to arrive in the beak of one of those blasted birds.

Felix had died. 

The young man had been ill, of course. He had known he was dying and had been remarkably unafraid of the fact… but Dorian hadn’t been prepared.

The mage heaved his heavy door open, slipped inside and shoved it shut again. He didn’t want to be disturbed. No one would care that a good man had gone to the Maker. He was from Tevinter after all, and Southerners were utterly unable to look beyond that to the fact that one or two people who hailed from that country were capable of good acts.

A tear trickled down his cheek as he sat on the edge of his bed. He thought of Felix’s bright smile as he brought Dorian snacks; he thought of the young man’s friendship even though he knew of Dorian’s… different tastes; he thought of how Felix had been the first person to accept him for who he was and remain an honest friend. 

He sighed, shuddering as his breath caught on the lump in his throat.

No one here would care. And now, Dorian was alone. He battled his misery, trying to convince himself he wasn’t alone. Krem was from Tevinter, and while the man didn’t particularly like Dorian, he wasn’t openly aggressive towards him; then there was Bull who, for unfathomable reasons, was actually very fond of him; there was Lavellan, who still smiled at him despite how horrible he had been towards her when they had encountered his father; there was even Cole, who liked him well enough, even if he did tend to blurt out things that ought to have been private.

Even with his ability to list his friends here, or perhaps because he was aware they fit onto the digits on one hands, Dorian felt alone. He curled his knees into his chest and rolled away from the door, pressing his face into the damp smell of his mattress. The straw would need replacing soon, but he was putting it off, unsure of how to go about changing it. 

A scraping noise caught his attention, but he didn’t move. He was a little surprised the Iron Bull had noticed he was missing so soon. 

“I’m not the Iron Bull.” Cole’s confused voice broke up the silence, and Dorian sat up.

“Are you alright, Cole?” wondering if the boy needed something. He didn’t tend to wander into people’s rooms. 

“I am.” But he stepped forwards and awkwardly looped his arms around Dorian’s shoulders.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his own hands coming up to Cole’s shoulders to steady him.

“You’re lonely.” Cole pulled back and gave him a worried frown. “Varric said hugs remind people that they are not alone, so I thought I would help… I can go and get the Iron Bull if he can help better than me?”

Dorian very much wanted Bull’s arms wrapped around him, but he didn’t want to tell Cole that. 

“You’ll do just fine. Come here.” He opened his arms wide, and managed to smile when Cole tumbled into them.

“I don’t like it when you hurt.” Cole softly told him, as though imparting a great secret.

“Of course not. We’re friends.” Dorian told him. “I don’t like it when you’re hurt either.”

And he really didn’t. He had been shouted at by one of the cooks a few weeks ago for trying to help her, then finding that with his new element of humanity, reversing his mistake was not as easy. The forlorn expression he had worn before Varric had consoled him had bothered Dorian. He had even considered trying to find something to say in an attempt to cheer the boy up.

“Oh.” Cole replied, but when Dorian glanced down, the boy was grinning so widely that his face had to hurt. “I like having friends.”

They sat together for a time, neither saying a word. Dorian wasn’t sure how this was helping, after all the boy didn’t know Felix, didn’t care about him and certainly wouldn’t mourn him, yet sitting here with the boy cuddled up with him was a comfort he didn’t expect. 

Tevinter certainly could do with more cuddles. Showing affection like this was considered weak, but perhaps it would do that society some good.

“Hey, Dorian?” Bull’s voice called out, just before the wooden door was shoved wide enough for Bull to come through. “Well, what’s going on in here?”

Cole laughed and jumped up. He grinned widely at Bull before running out, the large man shaking his head at him as a fond expression melted onto his face.

“Felix died.” He blurted out.

“Felix?” Bull sat down beside Dorian, the warmth of his expression not leaving his face, even as it became more serious.

“Yeah. He was my friend and he was a good man.” Dorian didn’t want to go into details though. 

“Fair enough. We staying here, or do you wanna go to the tavern?”

“I don’t want to be a bore…” he hesitated, not wanting to leave. He felt safe in his room.

“Too late for that.” Snorted Bull, before tugging Dorian into his lap.

“You don’t mind?” He checked, placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“No.”

And with that, Bull wrapped his arms around Dorian in a secure hold. Dorian leaned into the embrace and kissed him softly, allowing their lips to meet in a gentle embrace of their own. It was like someone had cast slow upon them, forcing them to take time in exploring the other’s body, in allowing roaming hands to drift over flesh.

As he licked at the scar across Bull’s mouth, the man peeled Dorian’s shirt off, hands sure as they tugged at buckles. Already panting as though he had been spell-casting throughout the day, Dorian rubbed his smooth face along Bull’s stumble, enjoying the rough scrape. 

Though, his attention quickly moved to Bull’s firm kneading of his buttocks. 

“You’re gonna have to get up.” Bull grunted in his ear.

“No, like this.” he whispered in reply, blood rushing hotly through his veins as he considered rutting like an animal in Bull’s lap until he came in his trousers.

“Fine by me.” Growled the Iron Bull, rocking his hips up hard enough that Dorian almost bounced. 

The heat billowed out low in his torso as Dorian shifted closer, until he could feel the line of Bull’s cock up against his arse. He ground down, grinning at the low rumble that produced in his lover. He did it again. 

“Again.” Hissed Bull. “I want you writhing in my lap, I want you desperate with the knowledge you could have had it in you.”

Dorian whimpered as he gripped Bull’s shoulder and bit his ear gently. He gasped as Bull’s finger scratched down the seam that ran from the small of his back along the crease of his buttocks. As Dorian moaned, Bull did it again. 

It shouldn’t have made him so hard when he realised Bull had cut through the seams in his trousers. He shouldn’t have groaned aloud when one of his thick fingers slipped inside his trousers and over his hole.

“Just trousers?” Bull asked, his voice pitched deep with arousal.

“Th-They ruin the line of my trousers.” He moaned in response, writhing as he moved back and forth, unsure of whether he wanted to press his arse against Bull’s finger more than he wanted to press his cock against Bull’s stomach. He didn't want to discuss the finer details of his wardrobe, nor how he enjoyed the feel of worn leather against his skin. He just wanted the Iron Bull.

“Not complaining.” 

“N-No.” He whimpered as the finger disappeared, but sucked greedily on it when Bull presented it to his mouth. 

“Good boy.” Then it was gone and rubbing against his hole. 

It was such a tease, but Dorian knew he wouldn’t get much more than rubbing; Bull was a tad paranoid about injuring the mage. He leaned down and, like a mabari with a piece of fresh steak, bit at Bull’s neck with some enthusiasm; he had no such paranoia about his lover.

He loved marking the man though. It sent a hot flare through him whenever he saw Bull with a faint mark the shape of his teeth. Not that he ever managed more than a faint mark, Bull’s skin was as thick as Druffalo hide and didn’t bruise easily. Even so, Dorian liked to try. 

Back in Tevinter, his partners would as soon as danced naked in a room full of people than willingly wear such a statement on their skin… in fact, they probably would have preferred it to allowing Dorian to mark them.

And they called Ferelden backwards!

At least, most of them did. Most of them were arrogant and shallow and disinterested in being genuine in any way… but there were a few good people. A select few.

“You ok?”

“Yes, of course. Why have you stopped?” Dorian tried to frown at the large man, but it was surprisingly difficult in the face of such intent concern. 

“I dunno. Guess I find it hard to continue when someone is crying.”

“I’m not… huh. I guess I am.” Dorian pulled back and turned away, trying to hide his face.

He had assumed he was done with crying over Felix… he had expected to be able to forget about it through sex, but apparently not.

“S-sorry.” He said, bringing both hands up to cover his face, terribly aware that his makeup would have streaked down. “Fasta Vass! You c-can leave if you like.”

There was silence for a moment, and Dorian found himself suddenly wishing that he hadn’t said that. He didn’t want Bull to see him so undone, but he didn’t want the man to leave.

“You idiot.” Bull sighed, before Dorian found himself being tugged against a broad chest. “You’re allowed to cry when your friend has died.”

“I thought I was done with crying for now.” He answered, his voice breaking slightly with the words.

“You didn’t think you’d be sad when your friend died?” Bull’s voice was flat, doubtful.

“I- No, I knew I would be. But I did upset earlier on with Cole.”

“So what? You only allowed to be upset once?” Bull’s voice was still oddly flat. Dorian didn’t like it.

“No! Wait. Yes!” He shifted, bringing his hands down to glare at his lover through his tears. “I cried once when I left home. It was the first night after I had actually left Tevinter and everything was so different and too real. So I cried…. Then I had a drink or two… but I got over it and I didn’t cry again.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“So, when Felix died… I didn’t expect to get upset. I haven’t seen him in months, I knew he was sick and dying so I thought… it’s expected and it makes no difference to me. When I left home everything was different but now my friend has died, nothing really changes… I didn’t expect… I feel like something should change. The world has lost a good mage, a good man. No one here cares because he was from Tevinter and no one in Tevinter will care because Alexius left and broke off a lot of his ties to other families in doing so.”

“So you were his one friend?” Bull’s voice had warmth in it again, and Dorian relaxed, unsure what he had said to make the change but glad that it was there.

“Not his only friend. I was his father’s apprentice so I really only saw him when he was home… but I know he had a couple of other friends. Well, he did when they lived there. When I left all my friends refused to admit to knowing me, I don’t know if his were the same or not…” 

“Not really friends then.” Bull snorted, but the response made Dorian pause. 

“I… wouldn’t say that. I don’t want to think I grew up without any friends… but perhaps a different brand of friend?” 

"Vashedan. That’s not friendship.” 

“Not in the south perhaps.” Dorian smiled sleepily from his position against Bull’s chest. His body was exhausted, even though he had done little all day. 

“Guess you’ll just have to stay in Skyhold until all those ‘vints come to their senses!” Bull declared, before reaching up to run his hands through Dorian’s hair. 

“An uphill battle, I’m sure.” He mumbled, eyes drooping as one hand began to rub gently. 

“Probably.” 

“Definitely.” 

“Stop trying to get the last word in and go to sleep.” 

"No.” 


	4. A Gentleman is One who Puts More into the World than He Take Out

_"A gentleman is one who puts more into the world than he takes out of it."_ \- George Bernard Shaw

\------

Dorian crouched against a rock as he watched the giant lumber past. His limbs shook with exhaustion and fear as Lavellan was hit by a flying rock, her body moving like a child’s toy. She didn’t get back up, but Cole jumped from a tree onto the back of the visible giant and thrust his daggers into its neck. As it spun around trying to find the foe that had attacked it, another giant approached, a rock in its hands. 

“No.” he whispered, throwing a barrier up around Cole before he tumbled to the ground. Cole landed with a whimper and stopped moving, proving that Dorian had been too slow in casting his spell. He cursed.

“Dorian! Move!” yelled Bull as he finished taking down the Bronto that Lavellan had accidently provoked. Dorian scrambled out the way, throwing wildfire out at the more distant giant. Bull roared as he struck the giant, taking it down. 

“Oh yeah!” crowed Bull, a grin lighting up his scarred face as he glanced back at Dorian. The mage allowed his lover a smile before creeping over to check on Cole. 

The boy was still, but his heart was still beating strongly, still pumping blood through the body of the spirit. Before he could revive Cole though, Bull let out a cry and the smash of rocks caused Dorian to look up. 

Dorian stopped, his blood freezing in his veins as he watched the giant turn and noticed his movements. Gasping, he scurried backwards until he hit a tree trunk, his weapon still on the grass beside Cole. The giant lumbering towards him, one hand awkwardly reaching out. 

But Dorian didn’t stay still, he didn’t try and play dead; with a fear he would later curse himself for, Dorian got to his feet and ran, leaving behind both his companions and his staff. He could hear the giant crashing through trees but he didn’t stop.

It was only when a rock landed in the ground near him and smashed into pieces that he even considered the stitch in his side all the running had caused. He only considered his stitch because the way agony lanced through his body with every movement of his left arm was too sickened to contemplate beyond ‘Oh that was probably caused by a piece of that broken rock’ and even that thought was too difficult to linger on. 

Tears pouring down his cheeks as he hurried through the lands of Emerald Graves, he fancied he could hear Lavellan’s voice as she regained consciousness. As that thought crossed his mind, another stopped dead in the middle of it: he couldn’t return to camp without the others. The soldiers hated him enough as it was; hurrying back and claiming that the others were only unconsciousness and not dead would only exasperate the situation. By the time he reached the river, he dunked down in the water and held still. He wasn’t sure if giants could track smells or just motion, but he hoped the river would hide both. The choice proved to be a good one as a bear attracted the giant’s attention and it headed off the other way to Dorian.

Body still shaking, Dorian pulled himself out the water and ran, full pelt, back towards his friends.

Lavellan was stirring, her body stiff as she picked herself up. Dorian stopped just a few feet from her, giving her a shaky grin. She smiled back at him, pain evident in the expression. 

“Take it you distracted it?” she asked, before glancing around at the three giants around them. “How many were there?”

“Well, the second one that knocked you out took Cole out too. I saw Bull get the second and I suppose he got a lucky blow on the third, but I ran from the fourth.”

“You took it away. Good idea.” She nodded approvingly.

“Th-there was nothing brave about it.” He gasped, body letting out a violent shiver as he cringed with shame. “I was scared and I ran.”

“Good.” Lavellan said, her face fierce for a moment. “I wouldn’t want you out too. If you hadn’t pulled it away then we may have ended up in a cooking pot!”

“I-I’m not sure giants cook their food first.” Whispered Dorian, still unable to look up at her. He sat heavily down on the grass, his legs shaking.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re too stupid.” She grinned, but she quickly slipped away. Dorian felt his shoulders slump as she so clearly dismissed him, but he didn’t object; he had barely even been injured. He didn’t need the attention.

“Hey.” A gruff voice just above his head made him jump.

“Bull!” he yelped, before taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself. 

“How you doing, ‘vint?” Bull moved around to sit in front of Dorian, his body dropping with none of its usual grace.

“F-Fine. A little battered but fine.” He managed a smile. It was weak, but still a smile.

“Uh-huh. You looked at that arm yet.” Bull glanced meaningfully down at the bleeding wound that was staining Dorian’s clothing.

“It’s fine.” He insisted, his stomach turning as he acknowledged the pain that was still emanating from the injury. 

“Sure it is.” Bull replied, before his hands moved forward and competently snapped open the correct buckled to uncover his shoulder and arm.

“That stripping had better be for treating injuries!” laughed Lavellan as she sat cleaning a seeping cut on Cole’s arm.

“Is for now, Boss!” Bull yelled back. 

Their confidence and their care shamed Dorian. He curled his knees up and hid his face, feeling tears pour down and the pounding of his headache increased simultaneously with his heartache. He was a mess, no. He was worse than that; he was a coward who was only out for himself. The only reason he had even come back was because he had been frightened of the soldiers. 

The arms Bull wrapped around him felt paradoxical, ambivalent; both suffocating and secure at once. He curled tighter into himself, aware that he didn’t deserve Bull’s concern.

“You’re alright, Dorian.” Whispered Bull; who for once failed to say the right thing. 

“No, I’m not.” He stood up, pulling away. “I’m a coward. Why do you want anything to do with me?”

“Dorian?” Bull frowned, confusion flitting across his face. 

“I don’t understand… No, _you_ don’t understand!” Dorian crossed his arms, too fired up to notice his arm. “Why do you care? I’m a selfish man, a Tevinter mage! I am not kind, or helpful or interested in anyone but me. And you? In spite of all I expected, you are a wonderful man and a far better person than I could ever hope to be!”

His voice cracked and his knees gave in. he dropped to the ground and sobbed, undeniably grateful when Bull didn’t just embrace him and dismiss everything he had said. Instead, the large man crouched before him and waited for Dorian to meet his eye. 

“What could possibly make you think you are selfish?” asked Bull softly, seriously.

“Everything! I-I wouldn’t have stopped running from that giant if I hadn’t been worried about what the soldiers would do to me!”

“What the? No, we’ll come back to that. If you come across a giant by yourself I will always expect you to run! But you said everything, so what else?”

“I am selfish. It’s simply a fact.” Dorian curled tighter, feeling horrifically vulnerable. “I always look out for myself, I am not bothered what happens to others. I only left Tevinter because I was too selfish to accept what my father wanted me to do.”

“Can I say something?” Bull asked, his voice still too soft, too serious. 

“Y-Yes.” And Dorian squeezed his eyes shut, oddly terrified that the Iron Bull would say something in agreement.

“I don’t think you are selfish. I’m sure refusing to play along with your father factored into why you left, but if you were only looking out for yourself you would have ok with having a false relationship with a woman and sleeping with a man behind the scenes. Then you wouldn’t have had to give up everything and leave the country.”

“I enjoyed the idea it would cause my father shame.” He whispered.

“And then you stayed in Redcliffe, where you were not welcome in order to help save us from the threat of time magic and to keep Lavellan safe. I don’t know what you did in between leaving Tevinter and winding up in Redcliffe, but I am undeniably thankful that you are here and in one piece.”

“One piece?” scoffed Dorian, his whole body trembling even as he shifted closer to Bull.

“Yeah. You may be lacking a little polish but you aren’t broken. We’ll get you shining yet when we get rid of that self-doubt.”

“Missing more than a little polish.” He muttered, but he wriggled close when Bull once again wrapped his arms around the mage.

“No. Just a little polish. You care about what happens to people. I’ve seen the way you hover when I’m hurt, or Cole is, or Lavellan is. The fact that all three of us were knocked out must have sent you into a panic. More than that though, even when Blackwall, or Vivienne or one of the others you claim not to like end up in the infirmary, I’ve seen you ‘just heading in that direction’ more than once.”

“If… If we lost anyone I may have to go out more often.” He said softly, face pressed into Bull’s shoulder with no regard for the blood there.

“Sure. I’m sure it’s for entirely selfish reasons that even in Skyhold you work yourself to exhaustion in the library trying to find something to give us an advantage too, huh?”

Dorian smiled unwillingly, the confidence that Bull had in him was no longer a perplexing thing of terror, but instead it warmed him. 

“Can I ask about the soldiers?” Bull said softly, but it dispelled all warm from him.

“They don’t like me. Neither out here nor in Skyhold.”

“You sure?”

“They leave dismembered animals in my room with slurs about blood magic hidden in a number of books in the library so I come across them when I least expect it.” He said despondently. “They are perfectly aware that I am from Tevinter and therefore a cruel blood mage with many slaves under my thumb.”

“Idiots!” growled Bull, the noise causing his entire chest to rumble. “How dare they?! How dare those cowards assume they know who you are without any knowledge of who you are!?!”

“Everyone does it.” Replied Dorian softly. 

“That doesn’t make it ok. I wouldn’t love a murderous blood mage. They know nothing about you.”

“Love?” asked Dorian, trying to discreetly dry his eyes without Bull seeing.

“Yeah. Guess what Dorian; I love you.” Bull had pulled back to stare directly into Dorian’s face.

“Y-You do?” he asked, but a smile lit his face up.

“How could I not? You’re perfect.” Bull cupped a hand under his jaw delicately. 

“I guess I’m ok.” He said gently, unable to take his eyes off Bull.

“Perfect.” Bull whispered, before leaning in to kiss the man.

As their lips met in a delicate caress, Lavellan piped up “You two patched up yet or did you get distracted?”


	5. The Eyes are the Window to your Soul

_"The eyes are the window to your soul."_ \- William Shakespeare

\------

The Iron Bull went searching for his ‘vint mage. Everyone was celebrating the end of Corypheus, despite the Inquisitor disappearing off with Cullen hours ago. Now, the sun was setting, casting its dimming light across the surrounding mountains and into the fortress. 

“Hey, Chief?” Krem’s voice called out, a slight slur indicating how much beer he had consumed. “You coming back in?”

“Nah. I have someone to find.” He explained, knowing Krem would catch on instantly. He had only made it down to the courtyard, but Krem was still just outside the main hall, shouting down in a louder voice than he needed to.

“He said something about horses earlier on. Maybe the stables?”

Bull grunted in acknowledgement, but grinned when he heard Krem’s drunken “Horns up?”

As he ambled down to the stables, the Iron Bull wondered what Dorian had disappeared this way for. He had expected to find the man in the library, though coming across several people who had deemed it an appropriate place to have sex had probably caused the man to hurry away from his usual hiding place. Bull had been going to go to the tavern next, but if Krem suggested the stables then he would try there first.

“Hey, Dorian?” he called out as he wandered over. 

It was almost eerie walking through here when no one was around. He could hear the neighing of the horses, but the market stalls stood empty and there was none of the general hustle and bustle that he had come to associate with the lower courtyard.

“Dorian?” he said again, voice soft in the heavy silence.

“How can I help you?” Dorian’s voice replied, but it lacked any of his usual enthusiasm. The man himself was sat on the stairs in the stable, staring listlessly at the wall.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, unsure of why the man would be so unhappy.

“Fine. Wonderful, in fact.” The words were the right ones for Dorian, even if the tone was still lacking. Bull made his way over and crouched in front of him, ignoring the twinge in his knee that came from overexertion. 

“Tell me.”

“Nothing to tell. Is the tavern open or is everyone still drinking in the main hall?” Dorian jumped to his feet, eyes now focussed but avoiding the Iron Bull.

“Dunno about the tavern, but my room is. I have a few of those bottles Lavellan keeps picking up in there.” He gripped Dorian’s shoulder, willing the man to agree. He didn’t want to leave him alone when something was clearly wrong.

“I… suppose so.” Dorian nodded, though he gave Bull a slightly puzzled look before setting off.

They walked slowly up to his room, Dorian still unhappy about something and Bull was desperately trying to think of some way to approach it. They past several guards on the way, men who were unable to come down so quickly from the high alert they had been on, men still aware of how close to death they had come, men who were still standing watch over those finally relaxing; they waved at Bull when they went past, their words tense, as though they hadn’t yet been able to accept that Corypheus was dead.

It was only when they were heading down towards Bull’s bedroom door that he realised they hadn’t even acknowledged Dorian.

“They always ignore you?” he asked, before frowning and wishing he’d taken a moment to consider tact.

“Generally yes. Did you have something to do with that?” Dorian quirked an eyebrow at him, but didn’t seem annoyed by it.

“Me? No!” He scowled, irritated that anyone might ignore Dorian just because he was from Tevinter.

“Huh… Oh well. It is a pleasant change from them harassing me.” The mage gave him a smile, but the look had a sadness behind it that Dorian couldn’t hide.

Bull didn’t know how to respond to that; the flare of anger that ripped through him seemed in vast contrast with the soft tone of Dorian’s voice, but the words he had spoken had an effect. He gripped Dorian’s arms and pulled him close, pressing their lips together in a hard kiss that probably felt more like an attack.

However, Dorian let out a startled laugh, pulling back to grin at Bull. “Such a savage!” he exclaimed, before leaning in again.

Bull got his fingers under Dorian’s arse, hitching him up as he pushed the mad into a wall. Dorian facilitated the move quickly, wrapping his long legs around Bull’s waist and gripping at his horns as he returned the passionate kiss, little whimpers escaping his mouth every time he pulled back to breathe.

The Iron Bull didn’t help the man settle though, squeezing Dorian’s buttocks in one hand as the other began to rip clothing off.

“You love it.” He whispered hotly, grinning as Dorian writhed against him. 

“Yes well… I’m ha-hardly the only one.” The mage moaned, his fingers making short work of Bull’s harness. 

“I should have you here.” Bull informed him, his voice low and gruff. “Pinned against the wall. Could use some of these sashes that lie around to tie your hands up. You’d look real pretty like that, a light blue binding you up for me like some sort of present.”

Dorian let out a groan and leaned in to bite Bull’s ear, pressing their heaving chests together. Bull pulled them away from the wall and moved over to the bed, placing his lover down carefully before removing stripping off entirely and leaning over the man, still wearing thin trousers and boots.

“Do you want me to? I’d could tie you up and keep you here, all bare and perfect.” Bull dropped down and pressed his face against Dorian’s clothed groin. He was getting excited by his own words and needed to get his man naked now.

“O-Only if you were here with me.” Gasped Dorian, hips bucking up as his boots were pulled off. The larger man lapped at the bulge before him, nuzzling at it and sucking at the cloth covering his prize.

“You won’t be without me.” Bull growled, before pulling the material down. He heard a rip that indicated the trousers were now as useful as the shirt he had torn off, but Bull didn’t care. 

After all, Dorian was lying beneath him, looking up with trusting eyes. Nothing else mattered.

“Perfect.” He mumbled, finally getting a lick at the cock he desired. 

“Bull.” Dorian whimpered, spreading his legs wider. Bull knew what he wanted and skimmed his fist over Dorian’s entrance, feeling the man tremble with want.

He wasted no time in slicking his fingers up and burying them in his lover’s fine arse. He moved up to lap at his nipples, wrapping his lips around the hard buds and sucking on them as though trying to draw something out. Dorian yelped and grabbed the Bull’s horns, twitching as though he didn’t know if he wanted more pressure or less. 

Bull made the decision for him by moving over to his other nipple, nipping lightly at it as he brought his spare hand up to play with the one left behind. However, he stilled the three fingers he had in the man’s arse, not wanting to overwhelm him before they got to the main event. 

“More.” Dorian demanded, his voice soft but his words clear.

“Not yet.” He replied, moving up and suck a mark into his collarbone. He moved his hand down to still his lover’s hips as he began trying to push back onto Bull’s fingers. “No. Let me.”

And he kissed Dorian, their lips meeting in a soft caress that almost seemed too innocent for what they were doing. The smaller man calmed with the action, bringing his hands up to cup Bull’s jaw as they exchanged soft kisses. Then, Bull pulled his fingers out, causing Dorian to whimper unhappily.

As he recoated his fingers in lubricant, the Iron Bull looked down at his lover. The man was gorgeous, lips as red as blood and skin as delicious as the chocolate it resembled. He truly was perfection, and he was Bull’s to have and to love. 

He pressed four fingers into Dorian watching the man’s eyes roll into his head as he let out a wail. He wanted to pound into the man, to leave bruises and injuries that would give the mage cause to blush every time to felt one, but no. This time would be gentle, they did after all have time.

He splayed his fingers out as wide as they would go and moaned at the way it made Dorian writhe. 

“Ready?” he whispered, struggling to keep his voice steady, even for just one word.

“Please.” Dorian begged, his half-lidded eyes revealing love and trust in such quantities that Bull had to kiss him again as he pulled his fingers out and ran the slick over his heavy, pulsing cock. 

The slide in was as wonderful as it ever was, as difficult to go slow as it ever was. There was something about this man that brought out a more primitive nature in Bull and he found himself wanting to mark him, to cover him in his seed and to make sure others knew they could never have anyone as beautiful in every way as Dorian was. 

He pulled back enough to see Dorian’s face as he rocked into him, to hold his gaze as they were joined together in an ancient dance. He looked into Dorian’s eyes and down into that fascinating soul that was not flawless, but was all the more amazing for the scratches it held. He hoped that when Dorian looked into Bull’s eyes, he saw something worthwhile. 

“I love you.” He breathed, the feelings inside him welling up until they had to be released. “I love you.”

“L-love you, Bull.” Panted Dorian, a smile evident in his eyes, even as his mouth struggled to move from its slack-jawed position. 

“I love you.” He murmured as his thrusts became more erratic, as pleasure began to blank his mind. “Love you.”

He reached a hand between them, though he only held Dorian’s cock in his hand. He focussed on moving his hips without breaking eye contact. He didn’t want to stop gazing down into those brilliant grey eyes that were filled with love for him. He couldn’t break that connection for something as simple as an orgasm. 

It seemed Dorian agreed, for when he came, his energy went into keeping his eyes open and watching the Iron Bull; this meant that moments later, when the Iron Bull came, they were still locked together in more ways than one.

They only separated when Bull pulled out and lay down on his back. For once, he found himself wishing his horns went straight back, that he might be able to lie on his side and continue to watch Dorian, but the smaller man did something he never had before. He curled up on Bull’s chest and settled there, as opposed to scurrying off before anyone noticed they had slept together. Not that the people in the rooms around them were unaware. Even through the thick stone walls, Bull could hear when they started shouting in either anger or pleasure, and he was sure they could do the same.

Even so, it was only when they were away from Skyhold ever spent the night, and only then because they tended to share a tent. It felt significant that he was staying.

\------

In the morning, the Iron Bull awoke to find Dorian still sleeping on his chest. His hair was no better than it had been after their antics the night before and he was drooling slightly. Bull grinned widely, but shifted carefully to free himself without waking the smaller man. 

He washed himself down quickly, before pulling on his clothes and heading out. Hopefully, he could get to the kitchens and back before anyone else was up. After all, it was early and most of Skyhold had been up all night. He couldn’t help smiling at the idea of leaving Dorian in his bed like that though; ravished, with his seed still in his arse. Undeniably Bull’s. 

There were a couple of women in the kitchens, chattering away happily as they cooked, and a young elf boy hurrying about trying to find all the ingredients needed. Bull asked them what Dorian usually had for breakfast, and the elf boy brought over a tray with fruit on it, some bread and a tea set. Bull waited as the boy filled it with water from the kettle, before adding more bread and some milk for himself. 

He grinned happily all the way back to his room, contentment settling in.

“Oh, there you are.” Dorian yawned as Bull carefully opened the door and entered the room. He stopped as soon as he had shut the door, staring at Dorian.

The young man was sat wearing Bull’s large white shirt, the shoulder falling nearly to his elbows and the sleeves rolled up as high as they would go. He was sat primly in a chair by the unlit fireplace, ankles crossed and hands resting on his stomach. Bull had only worn the shirt three times: once when it was getting fitted, once to make sure it did fit and once at that fucking palace where they had had to be polite to nobles and Dorian had hidden in the garden to avoid the whispers about him.

Three times he had worn it, but it could never have looked as good on Bull as it did on Dorian. He grabbed the old table that sat by the door and placed it by Dorian, putting the tray down on it before kneeling before his lover and running his thumbs along the hem of the shirt, where it sat on Dorian’s smooth thighs. 

“You should always wear my clothes.” He said, desire burning up within him as he greedily took in the sight. 

“Should I?” Dorian asked, but the laughter in his voice was evident. 

“Oh yeah.” He growled, pressing his face forward into Dorian’s belly. “Shit, I can still smell me on you. You didn’t wash.”

“I’m having breakfast first.” Laughed the young man, his eyes bright as he pushed Bull’s head back. “Do I get it myself or are you going to feed me?”

Bull wordlessly tore a piece of bread of and pressed it gently to his lips, staring intently as they parted and accepted the morsel, before closing softly around his fingertips. He tore off another piece and repeated his actions, watching those lips move.

“Did you bring tea?” asked Dorian quietly, a flush evident on his face even as he shuffled forwards in his chair.

“Yeah.” Bull pulled back, taking in the full view of Dorian wearing nothing but his shirt again, then turning and pouring some tea into a cup. 

“Just a drop of milk please.” Dorian’s voice was low, desire filling it.

Still without saying a word, Bull poured some milk from the tiny jug the boy had provided into cup and turned to hand it to his mage.

“You need to give it a mix with the spoon, love.” Dorian told him, but before Bull could, the man was out of the chair and in his lap, pressing soft kisses to his jawline. As he mixed the tea and milk together with one hand, he moved the other down to support Dorian’s position. The shirt hiked up slightly and Bull’s fingers caressed soft skin. 

“You’re wearing _nothing_ but my shirt?” he asked, putting the spoon down to push the shirt up higher.

“Oh, I though you knew that.” Dorian replied, smiling softly and he deliberately wriggled in Bull’s lap. 

A knock at the door interrupted them, though it was only when the Inquisitor’s voice called out to the two of them that Dorian reluctantly got out of Bull’s lap and they both stood up.

“You wanna get dressed first?” Bull asked, aware that Dorian liked to be put together before anyone saw him. He had fixed his hair and his moustache but he was decidedly less dressed than normal.

“I fail to see how I can do that when you ruined my clothes last night.”

Dorian smirked, and headed over to open the door.

“What can we do for you, my dear?”

“Oh, Dorian!” she yelped as she took in the large shirt covering him. “Sorry guys. It’s just cook said Bull was up and getting food for you both so I figured I’d come and talk to you two first.”

“You are up awfully early.” Dorian commented, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did Cullen not keep you both up all night?”

“Dorian.” She laughed, a blush spreading across he cheeks. “Anyway, I wanted to ask what you’re going to do now. Are you wanting to stay, to go, what?”

“Hey, as long as you keep hiring us boss, I’m happy to stay.” Bull replied instantly, though his eye flicked over to Dorian who was frowning.

“I was thinking about this last night.” He sighed and moved over to sit on Bull’s bed. “I wanted to go back to Tevinter and change things.”

“Yes, I remember you saying.” Lavellan replied, standing in front of him and gripping one of his hands in her tiny ones. 

“But…” Dorian hesitated and his eyes slid over to Bull. 

“But you love him?” she guessed, accurately.

“Yes. So I want to stay, but how can I?” Dorian’s eyes locked onto Lavellan’s hands, his shoulders hunched up and his face pulled into a frown.

“Easy. You don’t pack up your things and get on a horse.” She replied.

“It’s easy enough to say, my dear inquisitor, but now that Corypheus is defeated… well, I have no purpose here.”

“You don’t want to be useless.” Lavellan said, in a soft, understanding tone that caused Bull to tear is gaze away from his lover to look at her. “The very reason I went to the conclave for my clan.”

“You’re not useless.” Bull spoke up, a hard edge to his voice. He crouched down before Dorian and took his chin in his hand. “You aren’t useless, Kadan. I value you above anything else. And while I highly doubt the Inquisition will cease to be-”

“No way.” Lavellan put in.

“Even if it did, you could join me and my chargers.”

“But you already have a mage.” Dorian replied, but a smile was forming.

“It’d be nice to have one we could acknowledge as a mage. And you can do more than that. I don’t know anyone better at research!”

“That’s because none of your lot like to pick up a book.” But Dorian was smiling now, tears forming in his eyes as he grinned at Bull.

“You’re never going to be useless, my friend.” Lavellan whispered, before throwing her arms around him. Bull laughed as he watched them tumble back, one hand going out to pull the hem of his shirt further down Dorian’s thighs.

As he listened to the two fools sobbing happily away with each other, he grabbed the hand that was drifting down and gripped it tightly. 

“I won’t be alone.” Dorian said once they shut the door on Lavellan, the relief evident in his voice.

“Hey.” The Iron Bull stepped close, crowding Dorian up against the door. “Never. You’ll never have to be alone again.”

“I’m glad.” Dorian sighed, his eyes shutting as tears welled up in them again. He looked and sounded vulnerable, and Bull pressed their foreheads together.

“Never again. If I can’t be with you all the time then you are a wonderful person who will always have friends.”

“I love you.” Dorian replied, a smile on his face even as more tears fell. “With all my heart, Amatus.”

“I get it.” Bull smiled. “Kadan. I do, because I love you.”


End file.
